


Haunted By Those Things Unseen

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Bonding, M/M, POV Three, Six Isn't Dead, Slice of Life, Team as Family, Three drinks nothing but respecting women juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22420129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Three can't sleep, haunted by what he did in his past. What else can he do but get up to try and shake his ghosts?
Relationships: Four | Billy/Six (6 Underground), Three | Javier/Two | Camille (6 Underground)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Haunted By Those Things Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Billytheskywalker on tumblr, using the lyrics 'So honey spread your wings and fly away' as inspiration.

If he was dead, truly dead, he wouldn’t be having this problem. 

Three growled in frustration, slamming one fist into the pillow his face was pressed into. He hit it again and again and again, as if it would make any difference. He rolled onto his back, sheet tangled around his legs, the night air cool on his sweat covered skin. 

He was exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that lingered in your bones but denied you any form of respite. Adrenaline still pulsed through his system from their job earlier, the remembered crack of bullets impacting the walls behind him making him twitch. But it wasn’t the fight that kept him awake. 

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the mess of purples and oranges giving way to the deep blue of night, silence reigning around the hollowed out shell of a plane they called home. Energy crackled down his legs, Javier wanted to— had to run, to move, to do something. The remembered press of a gun was cold against his temple, head slightly tilted to get away from the chill, but to no avail. 

They all had their ghosts, each and every member of their ragtag group of seven, and Javier couldn’t outrun his, no matter how hard he tried. He could feel sleep trying to claim him, the comforting dark void lingering in the silence of his mind, but he couldn’t, legs spasming with restless energy. Fuck it.

Goosebumps rippled up his legs, metal cold beneath his bare feet in the patches where the rugs had shifted, rucked up by Billy’s boundless energy. The base had been filled with laughter and cheers earlier, the younger members dissolving into a mess of tag and dragging Blake into their game. Billy was faster than David and Amelia, easily drawing ahead as he leapt from cushion to cushion, flipping onto his hands, shirt falling over his face when he knew David was watching. It was sweet, innocent in a way Javier wouldn’t have expected from a man who once used a set of metal pipes to skewer a car of men chasing after them.

Javier didn’t bother turning on the light switch, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. He didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s ruined sleep. He’d lived in close quarters his whole life, barely able to twitch a leg without knocking it against someone. He knew only too well the resentment that bred like flies when sleep was interrupted.

“Can’t sleep?”  
Javier couldn’t remember drawing his gun, the pistol steady despite the furious pounding of his heart. Camille grinned, the very action devilish as she waved, fingers flickering.   
“You’re going to kill me,” Javier grumbled, registering from the confused look on her face that he hadn’t spoken in English. He opened the fridge, wincing at the bright light that seared into his eyes, spitting out another curse. Empty, typical.

“Sit,” Camille instructed, gesturing towards the spot on the counter next to her with a sharp jerk of her head, slipping down as Javier hopped up. His feet swung in the air as he watched her, movement effortless and graceful, as if dancing. She pulled two mugs out of a high cupboard, hidden from the others behind a stack of French biscuits, each emblazoned with curling gold letters. The window swung open soundlessly at the mere press of her fingers, and Javier inclined his head to get a better view of her legs, deadly and beautiful, just like the rest of her, as she stretched to retrieve the milk from a pot outside.

“Amelia still has habits from when she was a student,” Camille chuckled, foil crinkling as she peeled it back, sniffing it quickly before deeming it drinkable. Javier laughed softly along with her. Their doctor had some funny quirks, namely her habit for labelling everything she could lay her hands on, snarling if they weren’t put back into their correct place like an angry cat. It was a strange group they had fallen into, but Javier wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Camille hummed as she poured the milk into the mugs, adding honey and cinnamon before placing them both in the microwave before stepping into the gap between Javier’s legs. He pulled her closer, hands resting on her hips, close enough to smell the perfume she wore like a cloud.  
“Hi,” Javier murmured, leaning down to kiss her, ghosts forgotten as she reciprocated, pressing herself closer, hands winding into his hair.

If either had been paying attention, they would have heard the quiet jangling of Wally’s collar as the big dog slipped out of One’s room, or the heavy pad of his paws as he climbed up onto the vacant sofa to sleep. They also would have heard the shuffling of One’s slippers as the man staggered into the communal area, eyes red and bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“Really? People eat there, disgusting.”  
“You’re just jealous,” Javier replied, Camille pressing kisses along his jaw, muttering something filthy into his ear. One scoffed, rolling his eyes in the dim moonlight before collapsing onto the sofa next to Wally, the dog settling his head onto One’s lap, demanding to be stroked. The familiar quiet strains of the theme music to One’s favourite show began to play, Javier burying his face into the crook of Camille’s neck in frustration. She laughed, the noise rumbling against Javier’s closed eyes, nails scratching gently against his scalp.

“Come on. Let’s watch,” Camille said, “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”  
It seemed strange, but Javier understood how she felt. He was warm, comfortably so, the press of the gun a distant memory once again. Sleep still felt a long way away, a shimmer on the horizon, and mindless TV would be a good distraction, too tired to do anything more strenuous. 

Wally’s tail hit a steady rhythm against the cushions as they passed, each pausing to scratch behind his ears before curling up on the loveseat, springs groaning underneath the weight of two people. 

“Having a movie marathon then?”  
Javier jerked back awake, hand twitching to his gun before he caught himself. As he twisted his head to blink, bleary eyed, at Billy. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the light of the TV reflected in Camille’s half open eyes, her heart beat slow beneath his ear.   
“Shhhh,” David hissed, balancing on his toes to peer over Billy’s shoulder, bare chest revealing the network of scars on his left shoulder that inched up his neck from the accident in Florence that sent him to the hospital for three months to recover, the others under the impression he had died. Billy had punched One in the face when David’s death had been revealed to be a hoax before flinging himself at his boyfriend. 

“Come and join in,” One offered, head resting against the back of the sofa, not watching the screen.   
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for the little spoon Three,” Billy muttered, snagging the blanket from beneath the loveseat, pulling David to sit down next to him, throwing the blanket around their shoulders.  
“Fuck off,” Javier replied, Camille’s nails tracing patterns across his chest absentmindedly.

“Is that a new episode?”  
“Bonsoir Amelia,” Camille called, as the girl scrambled onto an empty chair, wicker creaking as she did so, ignoring One’s incredulous muttering about the series run time and how long it had been since it first aired. Amelia’s face was illuminated by the light from her phone, tapping away at it even as her gaze darted between the two screens. 

Hours slipped by without notice, lost in a mess of crackling audio and canned laugh tracks of people long dead. Blaine joined at some point, only alerted to his presence by the rumbling of his deep laugh and the rustling of paper as he threw a sweet to Amelia, cutting off One’s complaints by sticking one directly into his mouth.

This wasn’t the path Javier thought his life would take when he first entered the country, skinny and starving, soaked to the bone as he evaded the border patrol. But somehow, he wouldn’t have had things turn out any other way, ghosts and all.


End file.
